


These Days of Dust

by runsinthefamily



Series: Purgatory [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Purgatory, trueform!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <img/>
</p><p> </p><p>http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/geothermal-spring-iceland/</p>
    </blockquote>





	These Days of Dust

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/geothermal-spring-iceland/

"And what's with the fog?" Dean grumbles, leaning against Cas's side - currently smooth animate rock that pulsed with heat - to ward away shivers. Snow and ice hadn't bothered him back in Level One but for some reason this damp chill wound its way under his clothes.

" ** _As we go deeper, the stuff of purgatory will become less -_** " Cas seeks for a word, " ** _\- tangible._** "

"What happened to me shaping reality?" Dean slings an arm over Cas's low, rolling shoulders and feels the warmth sink into his muscles. It's almost too warm, like resting his feet directly on a space heater, but he sinks into it, lets it permeate him. The shadow-and-light of Cas' wing unfolds and droops not-quite around him.

" ** _You are, still._** " Cas looks at Dean, his blue eyes nearly lost beneath a steep, craggy brow. " ** _It simply doesn't penetrate as far. Things are less orderly, here._** "

"That sounds a bit ominous."

" ** _This was Eve's demesne once,_** " Cas says. **_"She was ever a creature of chaos and creation. ** _"_**_**

"This was Eve's place?" Dean looks around at the worn down tumbles of rock, the dry, grassless earth. "Wasn't she the head honcho here? You'd think it would be more impressive."

" ** _It was, when she inhabited it._**

There is only the barest warning, a faint scuffle of feet, and then humanoid shapes flit out of the fog, a stream of them, heading right for Dean and Cas. Dean yanks out his knife, pushes away from Cas. His front shirt pocket flare with sudden heat as Lightbulb stirs, roused by the abrupt jump in Dean's heartbeat. Cas swings his heavy head forward and lets out a grinding roar that shakes the ground and makes Dean's teeth vibrate together.

The shapes, clearer now, pay no mind to any of it. The first one reaches them, Dean hefts his blade, and then it whips by on the right.

Dean turns his head, watches it go by. It is a woman, almost, although her face is indistinct in a way that reminds him of weather-worn statues, all her features soft and blurry. She's wearing a cardigan and skirt and practical shoes, all of it as grey as the fog that birthed her. She doesn't so much as glance at Dean. And then she is gone, vanished into the haze again.

The rest of them, some twenty or so, do the exact same, rushing around Dean and Cas like river water around a stone. Dean stands still as the last fades away, letting his heart slow again. Lightbulb makes an inquisitive chime.

"Cas?" Dean asks.

Cas is looking into the fog after the apparitions, his head tilted to one side. No matter how strange his form becomes, there is always something that remains completely _Cas_ about him. " ** _Ghosts_** ," he says at last.

"Ghosts," Dean repeats. "This is where ghosts go?" There is a sinking sensation in his gut. "I always thought that - I mean, ghosts are people, or they were, once. I thought they got to go where people go. Heaven." He grimaces. "Hell. Whatever."

" ** _I don't know what the rules are, Dean,_** " Cas sounds apologetic, and tired. 

"Bobby?" Dean manages. "Is he down here, somewhere?"

" ** _I don't know,_** " says Cas.

"Goddamnit," says Dean. his grip tightens on the knife. "God _damn_ it!"

Lightbulb pings worriedly.

" ** _We can look,_** " Cas begins and then cuts himself off, head flinging up, wings mantling.

Something shrieks, off in the grey ahead of them. The sound is drilling, atonal, with harmonics that make Dean's skull feel as if it is rattling to pieces. It sounded like the great grand-daddy of the bone freaks that had chased them constantly through Level One.

"Jesus, what is that?"

" ** _Stay behind me,_** " says Cas. He clenches fists like boulders and heat pours off him like a furnace. His wings manifest fully, larger than Dean has ever seen them. Ash and sparks rain from them as Cas snaps them out to full extension. They rattle like slate. 

"Cas, what -" 

" ** _Behind me, Dean!_** " Cas knocks him backward with a twitch of a wing and Dean goes sprawling on the dusty ground. 

The thing howls again, louder this time, closer. It trails away into demented, hyena laughter. 

Cas is still, waiting.

The ground trembles and then its there, leaping out of the fog. It's bird-like. Flat yellow eyes. Snaky neck. That's all Dean can grasp of it. His eyes won't stay focused on it, his mind won't take it in. When he tries, everything goes white and a minute later he's pushing himself up off the ground, blood dripping from his nose, his head one solid throb of pain.

Cas' foot slams into the ground right next to him, wide spatulate toes spreading and digging in. The thing screams horribly and Cas answers, Enochian thundering out like mountains falling. Dean cowers, there's no other word for it, cowers down and covers his head. Wind buffets him, a hot spray of something hits the side of his face. A body hits the ground with crunching impact. Then there is nothing left but the bellows sound of Cas breathing. 

Dean uncoils slowly. Cas is standing over him, legs planted to either side of Dean's body. He's much bigger than he was before the fight, eighteen feet or more tall. He's changed shape again, too, tall and attenuated, with weird backwards-looking joints and grey velvet skin. Light wells like blood from several wounds. His wings are dark and feathered and ...

"Cas," Dean says, his voice cracking. "You've got three heads."

Cas looks down at him out of a nearly featureless oval. Behind it, a ram and a zebra share space on his long, thick neck. All have his blue eyes. **_Dean,_** he says. There is nothing human left in his voice. He lifts a hand, spreads the elegant, spider-leg fingers, regards them. When he closes them again, they grip the hilt of a outsized angel blade. 

"Is this -" Dean's voice fails him. He tries again. "You look. Is this - you? Like, the real you?"

 ** _Yes,_** says Cas.

Dean realizes that he's on his knees, gaping upward. He gets to his feet, swaying a little. "Hey look, ma," he says. "Still got eyes." He blinks. He's tearing up a bit for some damn reason.

Cas bends down. A breath of some clean scent comes with him, borne on the folds of the weird angel-toga wrapped around his waist. Cas reaches out with his empty hand and cups it carefully around Dean's shoulders. **_Dean,_** he says solemnly. **_May I have a hug?_**

Dean laughs, shakily. Steps forward. Wraps his arms around an angel, as far as they will reach, and hugs.

 

***

All the props to spacerocketbunny for the Trueform!Cas design!

http://spacerocketbunny.deviantart.com/


End file.
